


Paris Institute of the Extraordinary

by ViolettaMondarev



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaMondarev/pseuds/ViolettaMondarev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18 years old Gil has started his studies in Paris and life is pretty close to perfect. That is, until Tarvek Sturmvoraus decides to attend the same university, and someone else decides it would be hilarious to make them roommates. Very short slice of life chapters about sharing a 20 square meters room with one's worst enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Remember the page where Agatha meets Jiminez Hoffmann, hero student, fighting fellow student Pierre von Stron? Professor Beausoleil then comments "My dear Lady, they are roommates. "Awkward" doesn't even begin to cover it - but it is amusing. Say what you will of the great and terrible Master of Paris - he has a devilish sense of humor."  
> After that, I couldn't help but imagine a bored Voltaire putting Tarvek and Gil in the same dorm room just to make his day more entertaining.

It had been six months since Gil had been in Paris, and he already wished he'd never have to leave. The city was beautiful, full of fascinating inventions, full of knowledge and artworks. There were also a number of sparks here, not all of them very reasonable, which, yes, did lead to some amount of trouble and mayhem, but… if Gil was honest, he also enjoyed playing the hero adventurer very much. Even though Zola was kind of annoying sometimes.  
  
So overall, it was a rather perfect picture there.  
  
Not one shadow to it.  
  
And that lasted until the precise moment when André, the four-legged construct who managed the university dorms, knocked at his room's door and greated him with a cheerful:  
  
"Bonjour, monsieur Gilgamesh! This is your new roommate!"  
  
Gil stared at the newcomer with wide-eyed horror. Red hair, glasses, extraordinarily expensive clothing, and the golden Sturmvoraus sigil fixed on his white tie. It had been ten years since they'd last seen each other, but Tarvek hadn't changed that much.  
  
"You?" Sturmvoraus yelped.  
  
"What the hell?" Gil blurted.  
  
Tarvek's eyes narrowed and went from Gil to André, who shifted somewhat on his feet.  
  
"I see. So that's why there are suddenly 'no single rooms available' in this entire dorm. I have been warned about Simon Voltaire's peculiar sense of humor. But I have to wonder. _How did he know?_ "  
  
Gil put two and two together and briefly considered hitting his head against the wall in frustration.  
  
"Well," he said, "I may have mentioned, once, while I was a little distracted, that you were the last person I'd want for a roommate."  
  
Tarvek rolled his eyes and entered the room with a sigh.  
  
"Moron."


	2. First argument

"You can't think of something?" Gil whined. "Bribe someone? Pull some strings? Call in some favors?"  
  
"For the 50th time this morning," Tarvek retorted, "if I thought I could somehow move out of this room, I already would have! I mean, are you seriously expecting me to outplay the Master of Paris? On his own turf?"  
  
He was lying on the bed on the right side of the room and hiding behind the book he was pretending to read. Gil had the bed on the left side. Both of them also had a desk, a shelf and a cupboard each, all of that packed in about 20 square meters. There was also a bathroom, just big enough to fit a shower and a toilet. Gil was considering inventing some sort of device to split the room in two separate pocket universes. Messing with the time-space continuum might be tricky, and, alright, it may cause some sort of apocalyptic end of the world if it went wrong, but he was beginning to consider that an acceptable risk.  
  
"You're _supposed_ to be a villainous underhanded weasel," he complained.  
  
"So sorry to disappoint."  
  
"You could at least try. We don't even know for sure that we were assigned the same room on purpose."  
  
" _You_ don't know," Tarvek corrected, "but that's because you're as perceptive as a sausage. Did you see the look on that caretaker's face when you opened the door? I'm surprised he didn't bring popcorn. No, this was planned. The Master enjoys a good show, and it's a well known fact that he prefers to stage his own entertainment."  
  
Gil knew that Tarvek was right. This did not make him feel better.  
  
"But surely your family could, I don't know, complain or something?"  
  
"That would only make him laugh louder," Tarvek sighed. "Which is guaranteed to make things worse."  
  
"But why do this to _me_?" Gil groaned, burrying his face in his hands. After all the evil sparks he'd conveniently thwarted, surely he didn't deserve this?  
  
"He probably guessed you'd make a fantastic drama queen," Tarvek answered.  
  
A pillow knocked his glasses off his nose.


	3. Clean-up day

"But it's your turn!" Gil screamed in outrage.  
  
Tarvek looked up from his book. He was constantly hiding behind books. He'd probably have built a wall out of them, if he could.  
  
"It is most definitely not," he answered icily.  
  
"I cleaned the bathroom last week. It's your turn!"  
  
"It was my turn before _you_ turned the bathroom into a disaster area. It's your mess. You deal with it."  
  
"It's not my mess," Gil protested.  
  
Tarvek lowered his book and stared at him, daring him to deny it. Gil straigthened defensively.  
  
"Look, I don't know how many times I have to say it. The snakes in the plumbing were _not_ my fault. It's Martin Duvois who…"  
  
"I was there, Holzfäller," Tarvek retorted, exasperated. "You chased them into that cistern."  
  
"I had no choice! They were going to eat Zola!"  
  
Tarvek's raised eyebrow suggested he did not think this was a sufficient excuse to make snakes come out of his sink.  
  
" _And_ my resingulator array made them _completely_ harmless. How was I supposed to know the dorm's water supply was connected to that cistern, anyway?"  
  
"If you'd taken a closer look…"  
  
"Like you did?" Gil snorted.  
  
Tarvek reddened in embarassment. That day had ended up very wet for him, and he didn't enjoy being reminded of it. He'd been wearing one of his best suits, too.  
  
" _If you'd taken a closer look_ and thought about it for one minute, you could have sent them into the sewer, instead of polluting clean water and sending half the university running and screaming. Now you better get started on that bathroom."  
  
He added with a devilish smile:  
  
"You'll want to finish before Angèle and Ludivina can find you."  
  
For the first time, Gil looked a little uncertain.  
  
"Umm… They're looking for me?"  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
"Er…"  
  
"I hear Angèle was taking a shower, when you pulled your little stunt."  
  
"That's… Uh…"  
  
There was a silence as Gil conjured a mental image of Angèle Alambic's mood after finding herself nose to nose with a reptile in her shower. He was starting to feel a little hunted. Not to mention Tarvek's smirk was far from reassuring. Gil's eyes strayed to the window.  
  
"Oh, no, you don't…" Tarvek started.  
  
But Gil was suddenly very fast, and then Tarvek was scowling at nothing more than an open window. He leaped at it and looked down.  
  
"Come back, you insufferable prick! You can't jump from the fifth floor, that's cheating!"


	4. Borrowing

"Come ooooooon," Gil whined.  
  
"No." Tarvek didn't even bother to look up from his essay.  
  
"But I really need those references!"  
  
"Get your own book."  
  
"I tried! Do you think I'd ask you if I had other options? The only copies are in the Incorruptible Library, and I can't go there, because…"  
  
"… they revoked your library card. With extreme prejudice. I know."  
  
Gil's eyes narrowed.  
  
" _How_ do you know?"  
  
"It's hardly a secret," Tarvek sighed. "Your last passage there has left the librarians with _vivid_ memories."  
  
Gil's ears reddened a bit.  
  
"Now, the carnivorous unicorn thing was absolutely _not_ my fault…"  
  
"But your very inventive trap mechanism damaged an entire section," Tarvek completed.  
  
"I captured it, didn't I?" Gil protested, suddenly exasperated with the world. "Surely catching a rampaging creature that hunts down people to eat them alive is supposed to count as 'good'?"  
  
"The last time I was there, they were still restoring some of the 16th century documents," Tarvek replied cooly.  
  
This time, Gil paled a bit.  
  
"16th century? Really?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Alright, maybe he could have picked a better place to flood than the storage room of priceless historical documents. But at the time, it seemed, well, appropriate, and also he was in the middle of a fugue state and maybe not entirely paying attention to what appeared to be irrelevant details, and… um…  
  
"Uh," he uttered.  
  
" _Yes._ "  
  
"They'll shoot me on sight if I show up there," he moaned.  
  
"Now, now, don't underestimate the librarians," Tarvek replied lightly. "Obviously they won't shoot you."  
  
"You really think so?" Gil asked suspiciously. Under other circumstances, he might have gone for 'hopeful', but this was Sturmvoraus talking.  
  
"Oh, no," Tarvek replied cheerfully. "They'll be a lot more creative than that. You wouldn't believe what they can do with binding glues. The last time someone tried to sneak in, they kept the body displayed at the entrance for a week, just for the sake of educating visitors."  
  
Gil fell backwards on his bed. Why was life so unfair? What had he ever done to deserve any of that? The best library this side of the continent had banned him for life, and the only man who could help him with his credits was Tarvek Sturmvoraus. Was that what you got for working for the public good? This heroing thing was clearly overrated.  
  
"I just need a quick look," he tried again. "Just let me have it for an hour."  
  
"No."  
  
"I'll clean the toilet for the rest of the year."  
  
"No."  
  
"I'll make you pancakes! For breakfast!"  
  
Tarvek actually gave that one a second or two.  
  
"Mm, tempting, but still no. I'm not letting you _anywhere_ near a book that I'm supposed to give back to the Library next week. Unlike some people I know, I plan on finishing my studies without getting banned for vandalism."  
  
Gil started pulling his hair, feeling utterly desparate. The little toad was clearly not going to budge and he was so going to fail that class…  
  
Unless…  
  
He cast a sideways glance at Sturmvoraus, thoughtful.  
  
"Also, I feel obligated to point out that most of the traps on my cupboard are lethal," Tarvek added. "Just in case you were wondering."


	5. Ardsley

Ardsley had kind of hoped that Tarvek Sturmvoraus wouldn't be the one to open the door. As a spy for the British Crown, the heir of Sturmhalten was someone he preferred to observe from a distance. The man was unsettingly sharp, and the entire family was more venomous than a pit of vipers. Sometimes literally. He tried to make himself as boring as possible.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir. I'm just looking for Gilgamesh Holzfäller?"

"Ardsley Wooster, is it?" Tarvek asked, and Ardsley inwardly cringed. He'd always done his best to be completely irrelevant to Sturmvoraus, yet the man knew him by name.

"Holzfäller isn't here," Tarvek added. "But he'll have to stop by before classes, he left all his notes on his desk. Come in."

Tarvek let him through the door. He was smiling politely, but not bothering to be particularly warm or welcoming, and Ardsley felt a little uneasy as he entered. The feeling of awkwardness only increased after he had a look around. Lots of dorm rooms were double rooms, but he'd never seen one that was so obviously divided in two. One half was obsessively tidy, the other was, erm… creative chaos was probably the kindest description. No need to be very smart to guess who was sleeping where.

Tarvek was already fully dressed and starting to pack his bag. Ardsley looked at his watch with a sigh. He had come at 8:00 in the morning, thinking that at such an hour, he _wouldn't_ risk finding himself alone with Sturmvoraus. Where was Gil? Not yet on his way to class, if he hadn't taken his notes with him. Surely he hadn't decided to start hunting monsters before breakfast?

"I didn't think Gil was the kind to get up early," he mused.

Tarvek snorted.

"He isn't. In fact, I rather suspect he's still sleeping soundly right now, and will be late for the first period. _Again_."

"Ah," Ardsley uttered, as he drew the conclusions from that sentence. "But… his bed looks like it's been slept in," he observed.

Or rather, it looked like it had endured a tornado. Maybe several tornados. Tarvek shrugged while sorting through his books.

"You clearly don't know who you're dealing with, Mr. Wooster. Making beds isn't a skill Gil is likely to master in his lifetime. It always looks like that."

"I see. Then… um… where did he spend the night?"

"I have no idea," Tarvek replied, with slightly more agressivity than was called for. "Nor do I wish to find out."

Ardsley blushed a bit and decided not to comment further. Gil did have a reputation with the ladies, although Ardsley had never been able to get any verifiable details. Tarvek cast him a curious glance, weighing him again.

"So, you're one of Gil's friends, are you?"

Ardsley concentrated not to shift on his feet under the inquisitive stare.

"I have that honor, yes."

Tarvek raised an eyebrow, as if he'd just heard the Queen of England declare her undying love for Baron Wulfenbach.

"You look doubtful," Ardsley said, a little worried for his cover.

"It's just that Gil tends to keep company with the fauna from the bottom of the parisian gutters. You make an unusually civilised impression."

"Um. Thank you?" Ardsley was uncertain about whether he was supposed to take that as a compliment. He'd heard talking with a Sturmvoraus could do that to people.

"Just between you and me…" Tarvek hesitated, and then went on, "Why do you put up with it?"

"Put up with what?"

Tarvek made a vague gesture towards the messier half of the room.

"Gil and his... his _adventures_. The endless disasters, the monsters in the sewers, the whacked out sparks in the middle of breakthrough crisis… everything. You look like a serious man. From your accent, I gather you studied at Oxford, and you're probably hoping to go back there with a diploma and good references, not a record of turning the Seine into jelly. Why do you hang around someone like him?"

That was a legitimate question, and one Ardsley often asked himself. The thing with the jelly had in fact been quite embarrassing to explain, both to the parisian autorities and to his own superiors in London. Spying duties notwithstanding, one could argue that Gil was more trouble than he was worth.

"How should I put it?" he tried. "Oxford was a lot quieter, of course. Really much, much quieter." It better had to be. The Queen would never allow for anything to be turned into jelly. She disapproved of silliness. And noise. And of outward enthusiasm in general. "Maybe a little too quiet, I guess?" Ardsley added thoughtfully. "Being around Gil is… not boring."

That could have earned him a price for the understatement of the year, and he expected some sarcasm in return, but Tarvek Sturmvoraus said nothing. Ardsley could even swear that he saw him smile, if only very briefly.


	6. Cupboard

"Now, I've really got to ask. How do you manage it?" Gil asked.

"Manage what?"

"That." Gil pointed at the pile of clothes that Tarvek was sorting in his cupboard after his latest shopping tour. "I see you coming back with new clothes all the bloody time. You keep buying them, and they're always the latest fashion from St Petersburg or Vienna or whatever, and you pack them all in this ridiculously small standard cupboard we get. And yet _it's never full_. Do you have a dimensional portal in there? A reduction laser? A space distorter? What is it?"

Tarvek went back to his meticulous shirt-folding.

"Yes, in other circumstances, storage might have been an issue. But in this case, the solution is startlingly simple."

Gil crossed his arms, puzzled.

"You won't find it scientifically very interesting," Tarvek added.

"Come on, Sturmvoraus," Gil retorted. "Spit it out, you know you want to."

"You're my roommate."

Gil waited for the rest of the sentence, but it never came.

"So?"

"So, you remember that time with the one-eyed monsters of professor Strauss?"

"Of course," Gil said with a smile. "I managed to lead them out of the city."

"And…?"

Gil rolled his eyes.

"And they sort of trampled you. A bit. But I did tell you to get out of the way!"

"What about the giant spiders of Edmund Fakel?"

"I totally made them explode," Gil chuckled. "That street was sticky for a month after that!"

"So where my clothes. And Andrew Everdy's culinary weather machine? Any recollection of how that ended?"

That had ended with a honey rain, which yes, had been kind of a bother to clean up, but that was _honestly_ not Gil's fault…

Okay. He was beginning to get the pattern.

"You see," Tarvek added lightly, "I did come here with the intention to wear at least some of my clothes more than once. But then, after that encounter with the giant worm, my laundress made a nervous breakdown and I just gave up. It's simpler to buy new ones. Which, yes, makes it quite easy to wear the all latest trends. Fashion can't keep up with you."

"Hum… glad to be of service?" Gil answered hesitantly.

"Yes. I thought you would be."


	7. Homework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for this.

“WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS AM I DOING HERE?” Tarvek squeaked, and held the rope tighter. He was feeling dizzy. He told his body again that losing consciousness was not an option. Not when it would lead directly to a long free fall followed by swift death.

“Come on, this is for the greater good,” Gil told him cheerfully.

Tarvek wondered if Master Voltaire would mind much, if he just strangled the idiot in his sleep.

“The greater good?” he snarled at Gil. “Is that what we're calling your credits now? I can't believe you ever dared to call me an underhanded weasel.”

Seriously. How had Gil talked him into this? Arguments had been made, he remembered that, but his terrified brain was fuzzy on the details.

No, really, this had to be a nightmare, it was just too ridiculous. Then again, ever since he’d started sharing a room with Gil, his entire life had been ridiculous.

“Hey, it’ll save _your_ grade too! _And_ the entire city of Paris. This Sphinx has already eaten half a dozen people!”

“Oh, yeah, thanks, now everything makes sense. I’ll be eaten by a Sphinx, but at least I’ll pass the semester.”

“ ** _Exactly_**!” Gil said, his voice ringing with the spark. “Also, it’s _fun_! Come **on**!”

Well, there was no turning around now. Tarvek concentrated on not looking down and tried to find footing on yet another slippery stone. Only another three meters and they’d be on top of the cathedral. He extended his hand towards a gargoyle, looking for a handhold, but it hissed at him. Hum, no. Better keep to non-sentient stones.

Gil arrived on the roof first and helped him up. A huge mechanical feline stirred. The entire building trembled under its roar. Even the gargoyle’s ears flattened in fear.

“ ** _Fantastic_** , we found it!” Gil said, too far gone into his fugue for boring thoughts of self-preservation.

“Yeaaah, looks like it,” Tarvek said, trying not to whimper.

The Sphinx eyed them with quiet rage and sat down, showing its fangs.

“ _Tel gaelec agassa nir,_ ” it said. “ _To ma ne dar. Quod ma tederem onibu da ne far?_ ”

 “ **Perfect**!” Gil said with manic laughter. “Now all we have to do is _solve_ the **riddle**! Sturmvoraus, what did it say?”

Tarvek looked dumbly at the creature.

“Well, that certainly is interesting,” he said.

Gil frowned.

“Alright, but _what_ did it say?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What? But you have the best grades in ancient languages in the entire university!”

The Sphinx opened its gigantic mouth and let out a low, menacing growl.

“Yes, well, like I _said_ , this is very interesting,” Tarvek replied, pulling out his notebook. His voice was taking the undertone of a beginning fugue. “I’ve never heard that before, but it _sounds_ like it could be a local sumerian dialect with a heavy akkadian influence and, **_yes_** , maybe some old egyptian mixed in here and there.”

Gil looked back at the clank, who was letting out another, deeper growl. Tarvek was scribbling furiously and comparing notes.

“Hum… Sturmvoraus…”

“ **Silence**! I _think_ I have all the roots but this ergative syntax can be tricky. **Yes** , this one is _probably_ an ablative unless…”

“Alright, fantastic, but maybe try to hurry up… Aaaaah!”

Gil jumped on the Sphinx to avoid its closing fangs. Tarvek ignored him and continued scribbling in his notebook.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” he said, waving his hand at him. “Just _do your thing_ and keep it busy, I need a **minute**.”

Gil lead the Sphinx in circles, the furious screeching of metal only half a step behind him.

“You know this wouldn’t be **half** as hard if you just _moved under cover_!”

“Never mind that, _keep it talking_ , I need more _data_.”

Gil rolled under the Sphinx’s belly and made it trip on its own paws. It only barely slowed it down.

“Right, should I also invite it for _tea_? It’s not INTERESTED in making conversation!”

“Well if you have _nothing_ to contribute, stop **interrupting me** all the time!”

The clank grabbed Gil’s pants between its fangs and lifted him up. Gil cut the cloth with a knife, jumped over the beast’s head, and landed with a double salto.

“RED FIRE AND SLAG, WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP AND WORK!”

The Sphinx turned around with a snarl. It leaped and Gil jumped again to avoid it, but it stopped and reared up to catch Gil mid-air.

“Black fire, that was a **feint**!” Gil screamed in delight while crashing down. “It’s learning as we fight, that’s fascinating! BUT REALLY HURRY UP STURMVORAUS, NOW PLEASE,” he added as bared fangs descended on him.

“Learning!” Tarvek laughed. “Of course, haha, why didn’t I think of it, it’s been learning French! I have it now! It says ‘ _You who have walked into my lair. I will now kill you. How would you prefer to be eviscerated?_ ’ hum, that’s a tricky one. What do you think, Holzfäller?”

There was a brutal sound of metal tearing apart. Tarvek looked up from his notebook. The Sphinx was laying speared into the ground, Gil still stuck under a paw. Tarvek’s gaze traveled to the wielder of said spear, a clank piloted by a thin sixteen years old who was glaring sternly at him.

“Oh. Colette. Hi. What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” she hissed. “Oh, I don’t know, just walking around, pondering the great questions of life. For example, why in the name of the seven popes did you two play around with this thing instead of just destroying it, _like I asked you to_?”

“That’s not how it works,” Gil said while extricating himself. “It’s a Sphinx. We had to solve the riddle.”

Colette hit her forehead with her palm.

“Why do sparks _always_ have to find the most complicated solution to any given problem?”

Gil and Tarvek looked at each other, perplex that one should even ask.

“But simple solutions are boring,” said Gil.

“And wouldn’t even be worth writing an essay about,” added Tarvek.

“I don’t understand,” she moaned. “How do you manage to be this clever and this stupid at the same time? And somehow it’s like the smartness feeds the stupidity instead of cancelling it out. It doesn’t make sense, how does it even work.”

“Well,” Tarvek said, “there’s some pretty interesting research by a Spanish spark on the topic, I can give you references if you’d… huh… Colette, are you alright?”

Colette was laughing hysterically, her face in both her hands. Gil and Tarvek exchanged a worried look. Seconds turned into minutes. The laughing kept happening.

“Do you think she might need a vacation?” Tarvek whispered.

“I think we broke her,” Gil whispered back.

“What? No, I didn’t do anything. It was you. You’re the one who breaks things.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was something you said.”

“You know, maybe we should just shut up now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thought here for our dear Colette currently in the middle of breakthrough, and Tarvek trying to keep her from literally burning out. I love this comic.


End file.
